


Friends of Dorothy, Beware

by TheBlackLagoon



Series: The Tin Man [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Parent, Angst, First Love, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, character outing, f-slur, physical abuse not described in detail, pre-season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackLagoon/pseuds/TheBlackLagoon
Summary: All Billy can think is, that it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Tin Man [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979021
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Friends of Dorothy, Beware

**Author's Note:**

> My mind will not shut up about this boy. I'm losing it really. I decided this afternoon that I wanted to make more in detail pieces of the timeline I set up for A Boy Built To Die Young, and somehow I connected it to The Wizard of Oz... the isolation I fear has finally gotten to me folks. Anyway, if you want to see more Harringrove/Billy stuff come check out my [tumblr](https://scoobydoo-ghoulschool.tumblr.com/), so you can politely yell about them to me.  
> Edit: I now have a fantastic [moodboard](https://scoobydoo-ghoulschool.tumblr.com/post/632610271966429184/another-wonderful-moodboard-by-memes-saved-me-for) for this fic by [memes-saved-me](https://memes-saved-me.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr (Memessavedme on Ao3), so please go check it and memes-saved-me out!! :)

All Billy can think is, that it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. The black eye and bruised ribs could be a fractured skull and punctured lungs. He could be spread out in a morgue, silently and slowly decomposing, instead of packing away his life in California. 

It could have been worse. 

_They had been so careful, for so long- if he hadn't fallen asleep- if Dean had-_

The cardboard box in his hands has been crumpled, and Billy stares at it vaguely before dropping onto his bed, stripped of its sheets, waiting for the moving van ordered to arrive at 4. There is soft afternoon light sifting through the windows, and the room is simultaneously filled and so, so empty. Billy goes to pick up another box, folding it with the practice of the fifteen others he's done so far. 

And he thinks. He thinks about how it had all gotten so far off track.

They’d met at the Y of all places. Every Wednesday and Friday for Max’s ballet lessons that Susan insisted on. Billy, of course, was the one to drive her. He had to stay for the whole class, but it didn’t mean he had to be cooped up with all the other mom’s watching through the glass. He dressed for sport and headed for the court as soon as Max had her slippers tied.

Dean only ever showed up on Wednesday’s, and his form was immaculate. He played a fair game, a good one, and Billy could never take his eyes off him. When there were enough guys around for teams, they were always on the same side. And when Dean passed to him, when their eyes connected across the court, there was an understanding. A deeprooted, certain understanding. 

They kissed for the first time in an empty locker room. Dean had made the first move, had sat carefully, even after he had gathered his stuff, for the others to shuffle out. Until all that was left was them. And Billy had been sure, sure that he wanted it, as he’d been backed up into the lockers, the cold metal at his back and the heat of Dean in front of him. He had wanted it, the hand at his hip, and the one tangled in his hair. He had wanted it so badly. 

“I’m no fag,” had slipped from his lips as soon as they’d pulled away, and he’d regretted it, the way Dean’s face had crumpled, almost instantly. But the thing about Dean, the thing that made Billy ache anytime they were near, is that he could always push past all the bullshit. No matter how much Billy tried to stop him.

“Fine, you’re no fag- but you sure are a friend of Dorothy.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy had known then, right then, that whatever Dean replied, he’d already lost his chance to break away from this. He’d been in too deep when he’d let the locker room empty. He’d been lost when his back had hit the lockers.

“That you’re no fag.” Dean had said, and then he’d leaned in for another kiss and Billy had let him. It had been there little joke from then on.

It was only a few months or so. A few months or so, and Billy had been scared every second of it. Every touch and caress, and Dean had laughed through all of it. Anytime Billy’s eyes would wander, would try to pick out the danger in a crowd, Dean would grin, would slip his hand into Billy’s, hidden but so very secure. 

And that had been Billy’s mistake, letting Dean do that, letting him laugh like it was a joke. Pushing past the concern, and the worry, and convincing Billy it was all going to be alright. That it was alright if Neil and Susan were gone for the weekend, that because of this they would be safe in the empty apartment. 

“If you don’t want me worrying so much why don’t you find someone else?” Billy had snapped after he’d checked the window down onto the street for the third time. And Dean- Dean, of course, had chuckled, pulled him down onto the couch, and cupped his hand to Billy’s cheek.

“You’re my Cowardly Lion, you make me brave.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Billy had said, too softly, too warm, and Dean had smiled too wide back.

“It does, to a friend of Dorothy.”

“Well if I’m the Cowardly Lion, you’re the Scarecrow- _nothing up there but space_ ,” Billy had said with a smirk, and Dean had quickly and effortlessly scrubbed a hand through Billy’s hair in retaliation. From there, things had devolved into laughter, soft touches, and a quiet, simple happiness. They put on a movie, it finished, and the VHS tape ran out, and Billy had told himself he was just going to let his eyes close for a second. Just for a second. 

Billy couldn’t- didn’t want to think about the next part. The turning of the door handle he couldn’t have known would come so soon. The violent awakening- Dean being pushed off the couch, and- and then running away, out of the apartment- leaving so quickly he’d forgotten his jacket. He’d forgotten Billy. 

Billy who was was left with the _could have been worse_. The black eye, and bruised ribs, _could have been worse_. 

Neil had told them they were moving a week later. Susan’s parents live in Indiana. It was perfect, it was quaint, it was quiet. There will be snow in the winter, and the leaves will change colors, and there is nothing but man-made beaches. It is far, far away from California. 2,228 miles apart. 

There are tears in his eyes, he doesn’t know when they appeared, but he’s standing clutching a jean jacket that is not his own, and he feels every mile, every _single_ mile of that 2,228 distance.

“Billy?” Max is at the door, all 4”6’ of her tiny frame, and she looks defiant and righteous, and Billy hates her. He hates her because she knows, she knows, and she didn’t do anything to stop-

_She couldn’t have done a thing._

“ _Fucking knock Maxine_.” He can’t look at her, just grabs for something to put away, to distract him from the burn in his throat. 

“Dean called- I told him you’d try to catch him later,” Max says, dipping her head enough that her hair falls in a curtain to obscure her expression. Billy stuffs his alarm clock harshly into the empty box, and it lies there alone, and he seethes. He can’t snap at her, he can’t do anything. 

“And who told you that?” He asks, keeping his back turned, and he can just hear her face turning red in frustration. And he’s the one with the temper. 

“I just thought since we’re leaving tomorrow-”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong Maxine,” he snaps, and Max takes in a sharp breath, a breath large enough to use words that hurt.

“I don’t know why you’ve been such a dick lately, it’s not my fault we’re moving!”

“And who’s is it?” He spits out icily, finally turning to glare and Max stiffens, her mouth puckering before she’s turning on her heel and storming off down the hallway. His anger rushes away like low tide, and he is left feeling empty and worn through. _She should have known better_ , he thinks. 

_He should have known better._


End file.
